


Back At Your Door

by zombiegardener



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hooking up, Implied Sexual Content, Langst, M/M, Miscommunication, Modern AU, Now Edited, Other Characters Are Mentioned, i should really be sleeping, kind of, seriously, shance, so much miscommunication, talking needs to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 13:46:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiegardener/pseuds/zombiegardener
Summary: It wasn't that he was avoiding his friends. He just needed time, but how was he supposed to explain that he needed time before dealing with someone that was only supposed to be a friend? Besides, he'd never been a good liar even at his best, and right now he most assuredly wasn't. So instead he'd stay here at home alone on his couch and try not to wonder when his life had gotten so out of his control that he was actively avoiding everyone he cared about in this whole stupid city.edited 9/25/17, though I left the epilogues alone, because I kind of liked them.





	Back At Your Door

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sick all week, and while running a fever this afternoon I opened a file and started to write this. I have no idea why or where it actually came from. I may have been actively avoiding editing an imaging paper concerning stroke, but that's not important. It's not quite done, and I kind of cheated by throwing on two epilogues rather than actually tying together the happy ending bit, but I'm not really going to be home the rest of the weekend and then it's my anniversary. So by the time I have time to write there's a good chance the whole lack of a fever and NyQuil-induced semi-hallucinatory state will result in me not even remembering haven written this. So here?
> 
> The title if from the song of the same name by Maroon 5.

_Matt's place, 8:00. You'll be there, right?_

Lance stared at the brightly lit lock screen of his phone, distantly aware that he was holding his breath. The words themselves were innocent enough, but he could hear the hint of accusation in Pidge's tone in his head. Releasing his pent-up breath with a sigh, he slumped back against the cushions and dragged a hand over his tired eyes. One finger tapped restlessly on the still-glowing screen as he briefly contemplated pretending he never got the message, but that was a plan that was destined to backfire, because Pidge was nothing if not determined.

Giving in the inevitable, he swiped the screen and typed in the first excuse that came to mind, barely suppressing the wince in anticipation of Pidge's response as he hit send and tossed the phone toward the other side of the couch. 

It wasn't that he was avoiding his friends. He just needed time, but how was he supposed to explain that he needed time before dealing with someone who was only supposed to be a friend? Besides, he'd never been a good liar even at his best, and right now he most assuredly wasn't. So instead he'd stay here at home alone on his couch and try not to wonder when his life had gotten so out of his control that he was actively avoiding everyone he cared about in this whole stupid city.

***

He was sure the first time was a fluke. Shiro was back in the city for a couple of days when they ran into each other at a party. Under any other circumstances maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe they would have spent some time reminiscing and parted as the acquaintances they were. Things would have been so much easier if they'd just walked away that first night. But apparently that wasn't meant to be. Neither one of them really knew anyone there, and the relief at seeing each other combined with the need to blow off stress from work and the freely flowing alcohol made everything spiral out of control. Before he was even aware what was happening they were somehow at Shiro's uptown apartment, just barely managing to shut the door before they started pulling at each other's clothes. They didn't manage to make it to the bedroom that first time. And maybe it should have stopped there. Maybe he should have made his excuses and grabbed a cab home, but he'd been so sleepy and everything had felt warm and perfect, so he was in no state to argue when Shiro had gently pulled him to his feet and led him to his bed. They'd both passed out as soon as their bodies collapsed onto the pillowy softness of the mattress. And in the morning...

Lance didn't know what to expect when the moment of slight panic he felt when he woke up in a strange bedroom was eclipsed by staggering panic when he realized he was in Shiro's bed and naked. It wasn't like he had much experience with one night stands, much less with one night stands with a distant sort-of-friend that he idolized. He sat up, ignoring the insistent pounding in his head as he frantically searched for clothes that were probably still somewhere in the vicinity of the front door only to be floored by the sight of Shiro leaning against the doorframe wearing only sweatpants and a surprisingly soft smile. Lance froze, feeling pinned in place as his face heated up and the rapid beating of his heart amped his headache toward critical mass. He didn't know what expression was on his face, but Shiro just strode forward like nothing was out of the ordinary and gave him aspirin like the perfect person that he apparently actually was. It should have been awkward. They'd known each other for years, but not like this, and as far as Lance knew Shiro wasn't really into one night stands either. It wasn't, though. Shiro had just tossed him a pair of too-big sweatpants and made breakfast. Lance knew he should go, should just run and escape before he fell in any deeper than he already was, because this was _Shiro_ , whom he'd a barely hidden crush on since he hit puberty and the older "brother"- in reality if not by blood- of more than half of his closest friends who would probably kick his ass if they could see him right now, but he didn't. Instead he watched Shiro move easily around his sparse kitchen as he made breakfast, letting himself drop into the flow of a surprisingly non-stilted conversation with years of practice and a buzz of nervous energy.

After breakfast he meant to leave. He carried his dishes to the sink and was preparing to make some excuse so he could go home and scream into a pillow or something equally dramatic, but he turned and Shiro was just right there, so close their chests almost brushed with the movement. Their eyes met for a moment and Lance completely lost track of what he was going to say, or do, or possibly even who he was. He had no idea which one of them made the first move, but suddenly Shiro's mouth was on his and his hands were dragging up the bare skin of Lance's torso and everything else faded out to unimportant white noise. This time was worlds removed from the night before, when their movements were fueled by burning passion that blindsided them and their inhibitions were blunted by a soothing wave of alcohol. This time they made it to the bed, and while the passion was still there it was gentler and quite a bit softer than Lance was expecting.

It was kind of perfect. And he really, really should have left.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be with Shiro. It was that he _couldn't_ be with Shiro. Not really, not in any sort of meaningful way. 

Lance was pretty sure that none of them had ever asked any questions about what Shiro did for a living after his medical discharge from the marines. It was an open question, but one with an answer that they all thought maybe they were better off not knowing. If pressed, Lance wouldn't have been able to say why he felt that way, because Shiro was one of the most honorable people he'd ever met. There was just something about the way he deflected any question even tangentially related to the topic that suggested that the discussion was closed. Whatever it was required long hours spent somewhere else, which was a problem for any sort of relationship, because at best Shiro was in town maybe two or three weeks out of every six months, and those weeks tended to be spread out. It was an impossible situation, and they both knew it from the start, but that didn't mean they didn't try.

From that moment forward, they spent every possible second of the time Shiro was home together, always in one of their apartments. They almost never went out, because it seemed to Lance like most of his life was spent out and he gave in to the need to be selfish and keep Shiro to himself for whatever time they had. It was beautiful and intense and exhausting, as if they felt the need to feel everything in an emotional version of Technicolor to survive the long, lonely months apart. Or maybe he was overdramatizing things, and maybe it was only him. He was never sure, because they never talked about it. About them. About whatever it was that they were doing or where they wanted this to go. Lance was willing to admit that he was too afraid to bring it up, and Shiro... He thought that he got better at reading the older man over time, but maybe he didn't want to think about the answers to those unanswered questions. So instead they talked about other things. Through some unspoken agreement they didn't even tell their friends. Instead they spent their nights together as a group maintaining a careful distance, although Lance was completely incapable of toning down his hyperawareness of Shiro whenever they were within the same vicinity. He just hoped that their friends were pegging his sudden barely hidden interest as the crush that he never managed to quite hide and were just being too tactful- or kind, maybe, because that seemed more likely- to say anything. And he was good with that. He was willing to let the people closest to him think that he was pathetic if that gave them just one more hour alone together, so maybe pathetic wasn't actually that far from the hard truth.

He would have thought maybe it was just a physical thing, but then Shiro would call him, always from a blocked number, and they'd talk for hours. It wasn't a regular thing, and Lance never had a number to call back. Most of the time he didn't even know where Shiro was or what he was doing, although as time went by their conversations started to become a lot more unguarded and Shiro became a lot less careful about letting things slip. Immediately after those calls he'd feel better, and the next couple of days would pass in a blur, but then the doubts would begin to creep back in until the unrelenting ache of loneliness and uncertainty started to feel suffocating. 

Every time he'd tell himself that he was going to end this, that it wasn't healthy, that none of this would ever be real. And every time he'd end up back at Shiro's door, holding his breath until the other man answered and he could see that he was alive and well and staring back at Lance with the same desperate hunger that was eating him alive.

Until the last time. Three months ago his resolve had held. It had been almost two months since he'd even heard Shiro's voice, two long, painful months that served as a nonstop reminder that this had to stop. So when Keith mentioned that Shiro might be home in a week and they should make plans, he gave in to the pressure from work to attend a conference out of state that he'd been trying to weasel out of to the delight of his boss and the consternation of his friends. Shiro had called him, but he'd always had a perfectly valid excuse not to answer the phone, because he was supposed to be working. And he did work. He threw himself into the meeting with a fervor that surprised everyone who knew him well, using every excuse to distract himself from thoughts of intense storm cloud-colored eyes, hands trailing over his skin, and a soft smile that made him melt. Because it wasn't real.

And now Shiro was home again, and he'd brought someone with him. Lance didn't know why that surprised him. He guess he'd thought that Shiro's life was here, which was ridiculous. He spent most of his time away doing whatever it was that he did, which meant his real life was out there, and his time here was nothing but an interlude. A distraction. Which meant that _Lance_ was a distraction, and that really shouldn't have been as much of a shock to him as it was. They'd never discussed the future. Hell, they'd barely discussed the present. It wasn't as if they'd ever actually been _together_ in a meaningful way, and Shiro had never said he wasn't seeing other people. In hindsight, it was crazy to think he would be alone. People threw themselves at him all the time. Only Lance's pride made him think that Shiro would say no, because why would he? What made Lance so special? He was ordinary, normal, and Shiro was _Shiro_. Apparently some part of him had thought so, though, and he was amazed at how much more he could hurt. He hadn't been with anyone else since that night a year and a half ago. He was pretty sure Hunk knew something was up, but he was newly engaged and easily distracted. Or he had been, right up until they'd run into Shiro and Allura at a Starbucks near work the day before. Because she was perfect, of course she was, and they were probably perfect together. He'd tried to hold it together, but Shiro had reached for him with a look on his face that he couldn't read and Lance had bolted, because he couldn't deal. It was too much.

He'd made it home to his apartment before he fell apart, and he'd been here ever since, curled up on the couch staring at the walls and avoiding all contact with his friends, because he didn't even begin to know how to explain any of this.

***

Shiro stopped at the door and took a moment to compose himself. Leaning forward until his forehead rested against the faded wood, he focused on his breathing and shoved the encroaching panic down until the world stopped spinning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this nervous about anything. The adrenaline rush was making his skin tingle and heart rate speed up. He focused on the feelings, letting the familiarity of the sensations wash over him and help him center, because he was terrified he was going to screw this up.

Pushing himself upright, he took one last deep breath and squared his shoulders before knocking on the door. He closed his eyes while he waited, running through a mental checklist of everything he needed to say while he waited Lance out and fought the urge to knock again or call his name, because he was pretty sure Lance would be more likely to answer if he thought it was Pidge or Hunk checking up on him.

After a minor eternity, he finally heard the scuff of the lock on the wood and the door slid open. Lance regarded him with a tired expression that looked more resigned than surprised. Shiro's breath caught in his throat, because this was his fault. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to take the last step forward and throw himself at the younger man, to bury himself in his arms and his so-soft skin and his voice and let the rest of the world go the hell away like he'd dreamed of for the last six months. Forcing himself to wait was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he pulled it off because the thought of Lance pushing him away hurt more than the space between them.

"Shiro." Lance hadn't stepped back from the door, and his voice was as neutral as Shiro had ever heard it, with a raspy undertone that made him wonder if Lance had been crying, although his eyes were more shadowed than red.

"Can we talk?" He kept his voice soft. He was trying for calm, but the shakiness of his tone was evident even to his ears.

Lance stared at him wordlessly for a minute before sighing and stepping back. "Yeah, I guess."

Shiro followed him through the small living room, heart aching as Lance leaned against the window and turned most of his attention to the street outside like he did when he was feeling trapped. "Lance." The soft sound of his name grabbed the other man's attention enough that he glanced up at Shiro's face for a moment before turning back to the window.

He was trying to remember where he wanted to start when Lance did it for him. 

"It's okay, you know." His voice was soft as well, and his arms came up to wrap around his own waist. Shiro's good arm started to raise of its own accord before he forced it back down to his side. 

"What is?"

Lance's flicked an assessing gaze at him for a second before looking away again. "Don't do this." Shiro took a breath to reply, but Lance beat him to it again. "I get it. I mean, she seems incredible. She's probably perfect for you." That stopped him, his response freezing in his throat, because what? Lance didn't seem to notice his reaction, or if he did he read it wrong, because he continued as if his words were making any kind of sense. "It's fine, really. It's not your fault if I let things go too far. We never said-"

"Lance." Shiro moved and gently wrapped a hand around Lance's arm to both keep his attention and stop him from bolting, because he was starting to bounce his foot and Lance and nervous energy were a bad combination. He put more force into his voice to stop whatever Lance was going to say, because he was lost and everything seemed to be draining away from him and he felt almost helpless to stop it. "Who... Are you talking about Allura?"

Lance jerked his attention from Shiro's hand on his arm up to his face, expression darkening. "Yes? Who else would I be talking about?" 

"I have no idea." His fingers tightened fractionally, which only made Lance's expression close off more before he made a noise that sounded halfway between pissed off and frustrated and yanked his arm away. 

"Really? How many other people are you bringing home that I don't know about?"

Shiro stared at him for a moment, because this wasn't how he'd planned on this conversation going. He'd been fairly certain that Lance was going to break up with him. He'd even been prepared to beg, so jealousy was so far out in left field that he just barely managed to tamp down an incredulous laugh. "Allura is just a friend that I’m helping out of a bad situation." He lowered his head to try and catch Lance's eyes. "Lance, please, look at me."

Lance finally turned to face him, his jaw set and his posture stiff. "Just get this over with."

"Get… Will you just listen for a second?" He took a step closer, feeling his own eyes narrow as Lance's face took on a stubborn cast and he pulled himself up to his full height. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, but he knew that was a bad idea. Lance needed words, so he needed to give him the right ones. "There's nothing between Allura and me. Not like that." When Lance's expression failed to even flicker, he released a growl of pure frustration and shoved a hand through his hair. "I'm pretty sure I'm not even her type."

Lance rolled his eyes but remained tense. "Seriously? I'm not sure you've noticed, but you're possibly everyone's type."

Shiro blinked. "I'm really not." Lance stared at him disbelievingly, but Shiro let it slide because that wasn't the point he was trying to make. "But I'm definitely not hers."

"And why's that?"

He took a deep breath, because this was it. "Well, I'm pretty sure she's into women. But mostly because I'm hopelessly in love with someone else, and how would that be fair?"

Lance froze, those wide blue eyes locking onto Shiro's and effectively pinning him in place. He looked so lost, suddenly, but Shiro made himself wait, trying to push everything he felt into his eyes as if he could force the truth of it into Lance's stubborn brain.

"You're..."

Shiro kept his gaze steady as Lance's expression morphed from stubborn to slightly shell-shocked.

"But, no, wait..."

Shiro reached out a tentative hand and brushed it across the sharp line of Lance's cheekbone. "If you ask me with who, I swear to God..."

To his relief, Lance didn't jerk away from the touch. Instead he just blinked at him, still looking dazed. "No, what?"

He reached out with his other hand, cupping Lance's face and stepping close enough to stare directly into his eyes. "I love you. I don't want to be with anyone else, Allura or otherwise. All I want is you."

Shiro couldn't completely decipher the emotions that crossed Lance's face. They shifted from confused to elated before tightening into something like sorrow that was as profound as it was unexpected, and Lance backed away, pulling away from his fingers and shaking his head. "No, Shiro, no. We can't do this. _I_ can't do this. It's not... You're never here, like your real life is somewhere else and I'm just a distraction."

Shiro stepped forward again, already reaching back out to catch Lance before he could bolt, barely aware that he was murmuring negations even as he reached for him. "No, Lance, no, baby, listen. Just no."

"But your job, Shiro, we can't make this work."

One of his hands slid up to cup Lance's face again. "I know. That's why I quit."

Lance was staring at him again, eyes wide and blinking like his brain was doing some kind of reset, but at least he wasn't pulling away anymore. Shiro forced himself to be patient and give him time, because apparently they were so far from the same page he wasn't sure they were actually in the same book, and there was a lot more to fix than just his job. He just hoped they had time.

Lance finally shook his head, expression twisted into confusion. "You what?"

He reached out with his prosthetic and slid the fingers down Lance's side to his waist to tug him closer, wishing for not the first time that he could feel with them. "I quit."

Lance frowned up at him. "Can you do that?"

That threw him again. He was pretty sure he was gaping and snapped his mouth shut. "Yes? I mean, I had to wait for my contract to run out, but it's a job. I can quit." Lance didn't seem convinced, so he tried again. "That's a thing people do all the time. Quit jobs. Right?" He was practically babbling, but he still couldn't read Lance's expression and he was kind of starting to panic.

"Contract?"

Now he was pretty sure he was the one blinking. "Yeah, I had a contract with a security company. It ran out this month. I didn't renew it. They wanted me to, but I'm done."

Lance's eyes suddenly narrowed again. "Wait a minute. You worked for a security company?"

"Yeah? One of my buddies from the Marines talked me into it. It was a good job, I guess, but it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life." Lance was still staring, so he kept talking, the building panic fueling his words until they were almost tumbling over each other. "Too much secrecy and government red tape."

"So you quit."

"Yes." Lance seemed to be expecting more, but his mind was blank. His mental checklist had gone up in flames, because this conversation was completely out of his control. He had no idea how Lance always managed to do this to him, but he suspected it was one of the reasons he couldn't even imagine walking away.

"Isn't this kind of sudden? What if you change your mind?"

"I won't. I've thought about it a lot."

Lance watched him, teeth tugging on his bottom lip in a gesture of uncertainty that he didn't see often anymore. "You've never mentioned it. Hell, I didn't even know what you did. You could've been Batman for all I knew."

Shiro rolled his eyes. "Not so much. And I couldn't talk about what I did, because I signed so many non-disclosure agreements it's entirely possible I gave up my first-born child." His fingers tightened on Lance's waist. "And it wasn't that sudden, which you'd know if you hadn't spent the last five months refusing to talk to me."

Lance winced and turned his attention back to the window. "Yeah, about that. I just was so tired of missing you. I didn't think I could do it anymore."

"Good."

Lance snapped his gaze back up. "How is that good?"

"Because all I could think of when I was away was coming back to you, and I wanted to see what it was like to not have to leave." And finally everything must have finally started to sink in, because Lance stared at him for another endless moment before finally relaxing into a tentative smile.

"You're really staying? Here?" He hesitated for a second, his hand wandering to Shiro's on his waist. "With me?"

Shiro smiled back at him, relief washing through him in a wave. "For as long as you want me."

"That sounds..." His words trailed off as he took a step closer and let his hands trail up Shiro's arms until they were resting loosely behind his neck and they were almost close enough to kiss. He dropped his other arm to tighten on Lance's waist, ducking his head and almost brushing their lips together. 

"Sounds like what?"

He felt more than saw Lance smile against his lips. "Perfect. It sounds perfect." 

The kiss was soft and way too short before Lance dropped his arms to wind tightly around Shiro's waist and buried his face in his neck. Shiro closed his eyes and exhaled a sigh of relief. He rested his cheek against Lance's hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo and pulling him closer, feeling for the first time in years like he was truly home.

***

Epilogue 1

Much later, Shiro stared up at the ceiling as he idly ran a strand of Lance's hair through his fingers. "Just out of curiosity, what exactly did you all think I did for a living?"

Lance hummed in response, turning on his side to rest his chin on Shiro's chest and regard him with a speculative expression. "Well, Pidge was convinced you were totally John Wick. I was betting on Jason Bourne. Hunk was insisting on Rambo. Keith threw out some sort of _Supernatural_ Winchester brothers thing, but I think that's because he'd be totally down with joining you."

Shiro stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing. Lance tried for wide innocent eyes, but the smile twisting up the corners of his mouth ruined the effect. 

"You're all ridiculous. And you watch way too much tv."

"You love us anyway." Lance grinned and leaned up to drop a kiss on his lips before flopping back down to rest his head on Shiro's chest again. There was a moment of quiet during which he could practically hear the gears turning in Lance's head. "So what are you going to do now?"

Shiro sighed and ran a hand down Lance's back. "I don't know. I have time to figure it out."

"Mmm. I know someone with NYPD. They could probably put in a word with the men in black for you."

Shiro laughed again, the carefree sound surprising him. He grabbed Lance and flipped them over until he hovered over him. The mood shifted as he stared down into those blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for months. "I love you."

Lance smiled softly up at him, the expression lightening the dark circles under his eyes. Shiro resolved to himself to never make him look like that again. "I love you too." He let Lance pull him back down, willing to let everything but the man in his arms for- finally- the foreseeable future take a back seat.

***

Epilogue 2

Lance pulled himself from Shiro's arms, smiling down at his peacefully sleeping face before he padded back out to the living room. Taking a breath to steel himself, he retrieved his phone from the couch cushions. He was honestly kind of shocked that no one had shown up at his door demanding answers, but he wasn't going to sleep until he got this over with.

To his surprise, there was only 1 message waiting for him on the screen.

_Hunk: Are you okay?_

He smiled softly to himself, glancing back toward the open bedroom door, before he swiped the phone open to answer.

_Yeah, I think I am._

It was late, but the message bar immediately lit up with dots, making guilt uncurl in his stomach.

_Hunk: Good. I'm glad to hear it. We were worried._

_Hunk: Is Shiro with you? He didn't make it over tonight._

Lance blinked, uncertain where that question had come from, but gave a mental shrug. If Shiro was really going to stay here, they were going to have to do this sometime, and he was tired of avoiding topics with his best friend.

_Yeah. He came over earlier._

_Hunk: Good. Did you work things out?"_

_Yeah, but, what?_

_Hunk: Seriously, bro, I love you, but you suck at keeping secrets._

Lance laughed softly to himself, because, yeah, probably.

_I love you too, man. Talk to you tomorrow?_

_Hunk: Hell yes. And if you both don't show up Matt is probably going to have a coronary._

_Noted._

He glanced up to see Shiro watching him from the bedroom door, a soft smile on his face that was so reminiscent of their beginning that his heart stuttered. 

"Is everything okay?"

Lance glanced at his phone before dropping it and turning back to the bedroom. "I think it's getting there."

Shiro took him by the hand and pulled him back to bed, and for the first time in much too long Lance felt a surge of hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, epilogue 1 may be because I was listening to _Plastic Heart_ by Nostalghia from John Wick 2.
> 
> I know it ends abruptly, and I do apologize for that. I have intentions to go in and actually finishing fleshing this out to pull it all together- epilogues and all- but all I really want to do right now is go to sleep before the NyQuil wears off. I'll post an edit note in the summary when/if that gets accomplished, because I seriously may not remember posting this tomorrow.


End file.
